Thursday, September 29, 2011

Fresh off the band's critically and fan-acclaimed second album, Godless Beauty, Sweden's Cemetary was determined to carry on experimenting with different musical styles and incorporating new sonic elements into its ever-evolving post-death metal sound. Yet, unlike the group's compatriots Tiamat and Opeth, who sought to expand heavy metal's boundaries by clashing together harsh dynamic contrasts (often quite successfully, it must be said), Cemetary, and particularly main man Mathias Lodmalm, seemed bent on pursuing a more restrained, organic path of development. True to this credo, 1994's Black Vanity remained true to the slower-paced, doom metal trajectory initiated so successfully a year earlier (see the creeping "Ebony Rain"), while simultaneously taking greater chances to incorporate dark, melancholy melodies into the mix (with the acoustic guitar-led "Hunger of the Innocent"). Also, Lodmalm wisely decided to retire his death growl for good, and his lyrics clearly eschewed the obvious demonic subject matter for no less morose but better-informed subjects of depression. Conversely, the singer/guitarist sounded somewhat tentative, even bored with his work at times, and the album fails to truly ignite into action until the energetic highlight "Scarecrow," which boasts a pounding drumbeat and a surprisingly straightforward arrangement of the traditional rock & roll variety. This song provided the key to Cemetary's future endeavors, and in the oscillating figure and gothic accents of the superlative "Sweet Tragedy," which arrives a few songs later, Black Vanity scored its first bona fide classic for the ages. Buoyed by this momentum, the album closes strongly with the beautifully arranged "Out in Sand" and the driving power of "Rosemary Taste the Sky." Taken as a whole, Black Vanity may fall somewhat short of its predecessor in terms of absolutely cohesive songwriting (no thanks to the unbearably dull plodding of "Last Departure/Serpentine Parade"), but it nevertheless served as a bridge to what was to come next, 1996's very impressive Sundown.

Cemetary released a pair of goth-inflected albums, Sundown followed by Last Confessions, and the latter is clearly the better effort of the two. The relatively empty tones of Sundown gave way to a churning eighth-note grind on this 1997 offering, which fans of the heaviest goth metal would certainly appreciate. It's this barely contained thunderclap that drives almost every song on Last Confessions. Each of the record's first three tracks ("Forever," "Caress the Damned," and "So Sad Your Sorrow") are prime examples of Cemetary's updated rhythmic overdrive. The tempos change starting with "Twin Reactor," and the record loses life throughout its second half as a result. But despite the subtle fades during "Fields of Fire" and others, there's enough good material -- heavily weighted toward the record's front end -- to recommend this, the band's final record. Fans of Cemetary and the particular Scandinavian goth metal the band almost perfected should enjoy the aptly titled Last Confessions.

Although Sweden's Cemetary would eventually leave a legacy as one of the best goth metal bands of the '90s, their 1992 debut album, An Evil Shade of Gray, was firmly rooted in the Scandinavian death metal tradition -- as if you couldn't tell by its "so scary it's funny" title. Even without that telltale sign, though, it doesn't take but a moment to confirm that songs like "Where the Rivers of Madness Stream" and "Nightmare Lake" were as obsessed with tales of decrepit evil (and seemingly bodies of water, oddly enough) as they were rife with dense, earthshaking riffage informed with evidently superior songwriting imagination and dynamic diversity. Indeed, the seeds of bandleader Mathias Lodmalm's future stylistic broadening were readily evident in the somber melodies threaded into memorable offerings like "Scars" and "Souldrain," while the ethereal synths that served as haunting backdrops for "Sidereal Passing" already hinted at his eventual interest in space rock (explored to greater extent via post-Cemetary project Sundown). And, for radicals who cared not for such "evolutionary" drivel, there was the putrid pleasure of hearing Lodmalm's crusty death growl used throughout, and even more frenzied tracks like "Dead Red" and "Dark Illusions," whose all-out savagery drove them to the brink of black metal (all par for the course when a band was signed to the Black Mark label?). In sum, An Evil Shade of Gray was such an accomplished first effort that one felt almost sorry to see Cemetary progress so rapidly into new and exciting realms with their consistently top-notch albums that followed.

Cemetary was formed in 1989 when a couple of young men in Sweden decided to express their anger and despair through music. A few years later they signed a contract with Black Mark Production and started recording their debut album "An Evil Shade Of Grey" which was released in 1992.

Wednesday, September 21, 2011

Virago is a 1999 EP collection by Theatre of Tragedy. The disc contains tracks left off the Aégis record plus tracks from Velvet Darkness They Fear and the debut album. The EP was also known as the "Shaped Edition". It was released on May 26th 1999.

Theatre Of Tragedy is a gothic doom metal band from Stavanger, Norway that uses both death growl and soprano singing female
vocals in their music. Features vocalist Liv Kristin from Cradle Of Filth's Nymphetamine.
Theatre of Tragedy was a Norwegian band from Stavanger, originally assembled in 1993 and best known for their earlier albums, which provided a great deal of influence to the
gothic metal genre. The band made use of contrasting vocals - male bass vocals (making some use of death grunts) and female soprano singing (commonly referred to as "Beauty
and the Beast" vocals) - and on their first three albums, presented lyrics written predominantly in Early Modern English. Starting from the album Musique, however, Theatre of
Tragedy made drastic changes to its style, which became significantly inspired by the industrial rock genre, abandoning Early Modern English writing and death grunts in the
process.

Tracks

1. A Song By The Hearth
2. A Hamlet For A Slothful Vassal
3. Dying - I Only Feel Apathy
4. Soliliquy

Released at the height of the European goth metal craze, Moonspell's Wolfheart was a surprisingly accomplished effort by a band originating in the unlikeliest of places, heretofore relatively metal-free Portugal. Diligent students of their northern European neighbors, the bandmembers had yet to develop a wholly original voice, but quickly proved they'd done their homework by incorporating the genre's trademark elements (morbid lyrical schemes, dreary and melancholy riffs, ambient keyboards, demonic chorales) into the grandiloquent opener, "Wolfshade (A Werewolf Masquerade)." Singer and group instigator Fernando Ribeiro (here named Langsuyar for maximum crypt-defiling effect) alternates death grunts and a guttural baritone style obviously inspired by Type O Negative's Peter Steele as he leads his troops through multi-faceted but often overly ambitious compositions. You can't blame the boys for trying but, with the exception of "Love Crimes," which somehow manages to combine galloping drums, Iron Maiden-like guitar harmonies, and ethereal female vocals to great effect, the album's second half (introduced by the gypsy lute of "Lua d'Inverno" [Winter Moon]) soon collapses into a jumble of well-intentioned but not yet fully developed tracks. The strange chorus of "Trebaruna" never quite gels with the surrounding guitars, and the absurdly over the top gothic operetta "Vampiria" is a tad too much to stomach. Thankfully, the group pulls it together for a closing couplet featuring the easy-flowing epic "An Erotic Alchemy" (note the barely corrupted "Crazy Train" riff) and punchy closer "Alma Mater." All in all, Wolfheart was a strong launching pad, which would set the tone for Moonspell's accelerated artistic maturation in years to come.

One of the more worthy black metal releases of the early '90s was Moonspell's Under the Moonspell, a five-track EP that signaled to many extreme metal fans that Portugal had birthed their own extreme metal band. With the release becoming increasingly difficult to find in intervening years, the Moonspell lads decided to celebrate the EP's 13-year release anniversary by re-recording it, resulting in the release of 2007's Under Satanae. But this proves to be a "new and improved" version of the group's early classic, as re-recordings of other rare tracks from before their 1995 full-length, Wolfheart, are included as well. While tracks such as "Tenebrarum Oratorium" and the beautifully titled "Goat on Fire" sound rather run of the mill by 2007 standards, keep in mind that when these tracks were first released, there was certainly not an overabundance of extreme metal bands that sounded like this. With that said, Moonspell fans will welcome the opportunity to hear these early tracks once more with Under Satanae.

Tuesday, September 13, 2011

Far Side of Crazy is a song by the New Wave group Wall of Voodoo. It was released as a 7" and 12" single in 1985. It is arguably the band's second biggest hit. Although it never charted in its native US, it reached #23 in the Australian Charts and stayed in the top 100 for 21 weeks. It was featured in the 1985 movie Head Office. Its parent album is Seven Days in Sammystown. A black and white music video was made for the song.

In some ways, Dark Continent is Wall of Voodoo's greatest album. Although it lacks the "Mexican Radio" of its follow-up, there is no filler and the arrangements and concepts are brilliantly executed. Proffering an utterly unique blend of drum machine beats, Marc Moreland's Western-influenced guitar leads, and Stan Ridgway's distinctive vocals and lyrics, Dark Continent has been compared to the music of Devo, but is not quite like anything -- or anyone -- else. The songs deal with natural and industrial perils, tense relationships, and reflect a cranky, working-class perspective that offers an interesting contrast to the new wave elements of prominent synthesizer and hyperactive rhythm box beats. If originality and artistic vision are any measure of a rock album's worth, Dark Continent delivers on both counts.

Wall of Voodoo's second full-length album, Call of the West, was a noticeably more approachable work than their debut, Dark Continent, and it even scored a fluke hit single, "Mexican Radio," a loopy little number about puzzled American tourists that's easily the catchiest thing on the album. But while Wall of Voodoo's textures had gotten a bit less abrasive with time, the band's oddball minor-key approach was still a long way from synth pop, and frontman Stan Ridgway's songs were Americana at it's darkest and least forgiving, full of tales of ordinary folks with little in the way of hopes or dreams, getting by on illusions that seem more like a willful denial of the truth the closer you get to them. There's a quiet tragedy in the ruined suburbanites of "Lost Weekend" and the emotionally stranded working stiff of "Factory," and the title song, which follows some Middle American sad sack as he chases a vague and hopeless dream in California, is as close as pop music has gotten to capturing the bitter chaos of the final chapter of Nathaniel West's The Day of the Locust. In other words, anyone who bought Call of the West figuring it would feature another nine off-kilter pop tunes like "Mexican Radio" probably recoiled in horror by the time they got to the end of side two. But there's an intelligence and wounded compassion in the album's gallery of lost souls, and there's enough bite in the music that it remains satisfying two decades on. Call of the West is that rare example of a new wave band scoring a fluke success with what was also their most satisfying album.

This is where their polyphonic synth-based Here Comes Everybody greeted their imminent arrival at Sarah Records, and it sounds like a merger of the best of both Factory and Sarah. (They never did abandon the synth, though...check out the fantastic and evil "Provincial Disco" on their final album Tidal Wave of Hype.) The record admittedly has a very chilly sound, too, but it is just as lush as their previous work and what they would later record, a blend of cloudy, hazy, and sparkly. The lyrical content's fantastic from what I perused on their website, always a strong point of Caesar's, and it compliments and enhances the imagery created by the music. "Gruesome Castle" proves very light and joyful in sound despite the title, "Pale Spectre" sparkles even more and it marks the first lead vocal appearance by keyboardist Carolyn Allen (she really should sing more, although Caesar sounds as handsome as ever), "Furious Sea" is the most melancholic song on the EP but has glorious soft washes of sound, and "Plastic Flowers" sounds like a lost Polaris demo (by sound alone it could easily fit on The Adventures of Pete and Pete). The EP thankfully appears on the wonderful reissue of Here Comes Everybody, which I recommend greatly for the album, this EP, and the two a-sides.

LTM's 2002 reissue of Here Comes Everybody adds eight bonus songs and in doing so transforms a brittle, somber album into a near pitch-perfect release. The bonus songs are all derived from rare 7" and 12" singles released from 1984 to 1987 on Factory. Since the master tapes for most of the tracks on this reissue have been lost, LTM mastered a majority of the tracks from vinyl, and the sound is still impeccable. As with the eight album tracks, the singles and besides compiled show the Wake to be much more than the Joy Division/New Order clone the press had them pegged as in their day. Every bit as fragile and sweet as their contemporaries the Field Mice, the band sparkle on these singles. Three of the songs could easily qualify as career highlights. "Of the Matter" bristles with energy, as breathy vocals and a keyboard motif that wouldn't seem out of place in an Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark joyride mingle politely. "Gruesome Castle" blends fluffy electronic notes with an irresistible chorus of "I was born in prison/Without a penny to my name." "Furious Sea" might be the Wake's finest hour, as acoustic guitars and haunted sound washes create waves of sad emotions. The only sour notes come from the final two tracks, which basically amount to dance mixes. Boring, repetitive beats strip the original songs of charm and purpose. Here Comes Everybody is the Wake's finest album, and this LTM reissue is definitely the edition to seek out.

A delightful surprise, "Crush the Flowers" came out nearly two years after the Wake's last release for Factory Records, 1987's Something That No One Else Could Bring, when most had assumed the Glasgow-based trio had broken up. Bouncier than anything the group had previously done, "Crush the Flowers" is a duet between guitarist Caesar and keyboardist Carolyn Allen set to an arrangement featuring a highly processed, wobbly guitar that sounds like a twanging rubber band sent through a distortion pedal and a Leslie speaker. As gimmicky and unapologetically catchy as a classic glam-era Mike Chapman-Nicky Chinn single, "Crush the Flowers" is almost unrecognizable as being by the same band who did the gloomy post-punk of the Wake's earliest records. The flip, "Carbrain," is a strummy guitar pop song that's less memorable but just as sunny, with some terrific "ba-ba-ba" harmonies by Allen.

The Wake's first album will come as a surprise to those more familiar with their poppier later work. Harmony is standard early-'80s Factory Records post-punk gloom, not terribly different from any of a dozen other Joy Division wannabes. Steven Allen's metronomic drumming and Bobby Gillespie's Peter Hook-influenced bass are at the forefront of most of these tunes, supporting singer/guitarist Caesar's brooding, artless vocals. The only relief from the monotony comes on side two, with the relatively cheerful "Favour," which marries the Ian Curtis worship to a bright and Byrdsy guitar part, and the closing "An Immaculate Conception," which finally ratchets up the tempo a bit and features some memorable playing from keyboardist Carolyn Allen. Harmony is not actively bad, merely undistinguished and mostly forgettable; the Wake would improve markedly after this.

Thursday, September 8, 2011

Even at this early stage Ian and Guy had struck a great balance of power and finesse. This is such a bedrock release for so many musicians and creative types I've come across over my years in underground music crircles, who perhaps might not have felt as emboldened to play music by listening to, say, Malmstein's "Rising Force" LP. A great blend of musicianship and consciousness. Not every band should sound like Fugazi, but every band should try to implement the same approach to their music as Fugazi.

The equally excellent follow-up to the Fugazi EP was initially released in 1989 on vinyl, and was paired with its predecessor on CD shortly after its release during the same year. Dischord continued to keep the vinyl in print on its own, even retaining the rather gross headshot of Ian MacKaye on the cover.

With its righteous disdain for capitalism and the almighty dollar, Repeater sounds like an angrier American update of Gang of Four's Solid Gold, which had been made ten years earlier. Lines/slogans like "When I need something/I reach out and grab it," "You are not what you own," "I was caught with my hand in the till," and "Everything is greed" bear this out. Though not lacking any sense of conviction, Repeater honestly gets a little stifling. It's not too difficult to see why the band was allegedly lacking a sense of humor at this stage. They could have been yelling about filing their taxes; the yelling begins to fade into a din after a while. The title makes sense, if only by mistake. But -- and that's a big but -- Repeater nearly matches the Fugazi and Margin Walker EPs with its musical invention and skill, spewing out another group of completely invigorating songs, which makes the subject matter and finger-pointing a little easier to swallow. Few rhythm sections of the time had the great interplay of Joe Lally and Brendan Canty. Likewise, the guitar playing and interaction of Ian MacKaye and Guy Picciotto almost always get overlooked, thanks to all the other subjects brought up when the band is talked about. A guitar magazine even rated Repeater as one of the best guitar records of the '90s, and rightfully so. Anemic revs spiked by pig squeals (or is it a screeching train?) highlight the title track, one of the band's finest moments. (Don't miss MacKaye's vicious double-tracked vocals, either.) As always, MacKaye and Picciotto's noise-terrorism-as-guitar-joust avoids flashiness, used as much as rhythm as punctuation device. Sharp, angular, jagged, and precise. Other gnarling highlights include the preachy "Styrofoam," the late-breaking "Sieve-Fisted Find," and the somewhat ironic "Merchandise," which skewers Mr. Business Owner by asking, "What could a businessman ever want more/Than to have us sucking in his store?" Plenty of fans had to suck in someone's store to get this record, after all. [The CD version of Repeater added the 3 Songs 7" as a bonus, titled as Repeater + 3 Songs.]

Released in conjunction with Argument, Furniture is a three-song EP putting together older tracks that had yet to be put on disc. Running with similar consistency to the 3 Songs EP that preceded Repeater, these older songs still sound fresh. "Furniture," with its trademark Ian MacKaye call-response vocal, would have been quite comfortable on either of the first two EPs. The Guy Picciotto-led "Hello Morning" is reminiscent of "Break-In," while the driving instrumental second track, "Number 5," is scorching. Thankfully kept separate from the very different Argument, this should be heard by any Fugazi fan, no matter what time of the band they consider the best.

The EP Signals, Calls and Marches suggested that Mission of Burma had the talent and vision to become one of America's great rock bands; the subsequent album Vs. proved beyond a doubt that the group had arrived and was fully realizing its potential. MOB's blend of punk rock fury and post-collegiate musical smarts had been honed to a razor-sharp point by the time Vs. was recorded, and they had fully worked through the British influences that occasionally surfaced on Signals, Calls and Marches, maturing into a band whose sound was as distinctive as anyone of its generation. Roger Miller's guitar work had gained greater depth and confidence in the year since Signals, the rhythm section of Clint Conley and Peter Prescott epitomized both strength and intelligence, and MOB were exploring trickier structures and more dramatic use of dynamics this time out; the subtle tension of "Trem Two" and the powerful midtempo angst of "Einstein's Day" were a genuine step forward in the group's development, while "The Ballad of Johnny Burma," "Fun World," and "That's How I Escaped My Certain Fate" made it clear that the band had lost none of its rib-cracking impact along the way. It's daunting to imagine just how far Mission of Burma could have taken its music had Roger Miller's hearing problems not caused the band to break up the following year, but regardless of lost potential, very few American bands from the 1980s released an album as ambitious or as powerful as Vs., and it still sounds like a classic. Rykodisc's remastered 1997 reissue sounds terrific and adds four solid bonus tracks.

Wednesday, September 7, 2011

Recorded and mixed at Q Division. Mastered at Sterling Sound. Recorded in October and December 2003.

Genre : Post-Punk, Indie Rock

Label : Matador Records

Producer : Mission Of Burma, Richard W. Harte

This wasn't supposed to happen. After breaking up in 1983, Mission of Burma spent almost 20 years as the band who went away before they could get stale, run out of ideas, or lose their edge, but they weren't supposed to come back. No one figured them to re-emerge on-stage in 2002 for a series of reunion shows in which they would not only sound as strong as ever (if not stronger), but reaffirm themselves as one of America's great rock bands, an ensemble of uncommon intelligence, imagination, and force. But most startling of all, few could have guessed that Mission of Burma would return to the recording studio and emerge with an album that stands comfortably beside the striking recorded legacy they left behind in their earlier incarnation. First and foremost, Onoffon manages the not inconsiderable achievement of sounding like Mission of Burma -- a 22-year recording layoff has done nothing to blur the group's signature sound, and Roger Miller's crystalline shards of guitar, Clint Conley's melodic and propulsive bass, and Peter Prescott's inventive but muscular percussion appear to have aged not a day in the interim. But this isn't the work of a reconstituted band slipping back into an old formula -- cuts like "The Enthusiast," "The Setup," and "Fake Blood" are classic Burma, howling with energy and id, but the clanky, vaguely country undertow of "Nicotine Bomb," the skeletal textures of "Prepared," and the fretful calm of "What We Really Were" and "Max Ernst's Dream" reveal three musicians who are still adding fresh details to their sonic canvas. And while Bob Weston doesn't slavishly mimic the aural clouds of tape loops generated by Martin Swope (who opted not to participate in this reunion) during Burma's salad days, his sonic treatments (and non-intrusive production) serve the same function and mesh with the group's music with welcome grace. Though Onoffon doesn't quite top Burma's 1982 masterpiece, Vs. (remarkably, until now the band's only full-length studio album), it manages to sound like the more than worthy follow-up they could have cut a couple years later -- only with two decades of experience and musical detours informing its nooks and crannies. Onoffon is an album that neither embraces the past as empty nostalgia nor ignores the events of the past two decades -- it presents Mission of Burma reborn into the 21st century, as original and relevant as they've ever been, and their return is as welcome a surprise as anyone could hope for. Inexplicable, and gloriously so. [Analog loyalists take note: the two-LP vinyl edition of Onoffon includes a bonus track, a cracking cover of the Dils' classic "Class War."]

One could argue that Mission of Burma's first 12" release, Signals, Calls and Marches, was the point where "indie rock" as a separate and distinct musical subgenre well and truly began. Mission of Burma's music had the brawn and the volume of hardcore punk, but with a lyrical intelligence and obvious musical sophistication that set them apart from the Southern California faster-and-louder brigade. Between Martin Swope's tape loops and Roger Miller's often tricky guitar lines, Mission of Burma may have seemed "arty" on the surface, but the bruising impact of "Outlaw" and "This Is Not a Photograph" made clear this band was not part of the skinny-tie "new wave" scene. And Mission of Burma were one of the first bands that gained a large enough following to attract the attention of major labels, but opted to remain on a small label of their own volition -- a move that would raise the "integrity" stakes for many acts in the years to come. Signals, Calls and Marches features Mission of Burma's best known song, the still-powerful "That's When I Reach for My Revolver," but it hasn't stood the test of time quite as well as the full-length album that would follow, Vs.; there are brief moments where the band still seems to be working out their obvious British influences, and "Outlaw" sounds stiffer than it needs to be. But Clint Conley and Roger Miller were already songwriters to be reckoned with, the band sounds passionate and powerful, and if Mission of Burma were not yet at the peak of their form, most bands blazing as many trails as this one did lost their footing a lot more often that Burma did on these six songs; Signals, Calls and Marches was as accomplished and impressive a debut as any American band would release in the 1980s. Rykodisc's 1997 CD reissue adds the band's fine first single, "Academy Fight Song" b/w "Max Ernst," as a bonus.

Tuesday, September 6, 2011

Starting with a nuttily bombastic synth intro (courtesy of Squeeze's Jools Holland!) which sounds just like the music punk was supposed to be destroying might seem an unusual move for a band founded by the guy who chronicled the original London explosion. But it's that very contrariness in Mark Perry which made the original Alternative TV such a thrilling prospect, and which makes The Image Has Cracked an unfairly neglected classic from the late-'70s upheaval. Seizing on the promise of punk as being a new means of expression rather than a new set of musical rules to be adhered to, Perry, along with a solid-enough band, whip up a series of incendiary pieces that explore as much as they thrash, caught somewhere between the Fall's divine ramalama and three-chord snarls. "Alternatives" captures the tense spirit of the band's work perfectly, a live recording where over a gentle groove Perry invites audience members to come up and "use the soapbox," only to have a bunch of chancers and screamers talk a lot about nothing much at all, until Perry spits vitriol at a pair of people in a punch-up and complains about "diluted sh*t." As an expression of going down defiant while punk became a new fashion, it's fierce and brilliant. A good half of the album comes from the same concert, including the harrowing final track, "Splitting in Two," as perfect a capturing of nails-dug-in-flesh paranoia and indecision as anything in music history, revived as a live favorite years later by the Chameleons. The studio cuts include a solid run-through of Zappa's "Why Don't You Do Me Right?" and the closest ATV ever came to an anthemic single, "Action Time Vision." The 1994 CD version adds 11 extra tracks to the original album, including the reggae-inflected "Love Lies Limp" and "Life After Life" singles, among many others, making it the edition of Image to look for.

On the second album of Alternative TV, Mark Perry and friends did to punk exactly what the movement had intended for the establishment. About-facing punk and turning it on its ear would be a difficult task in 1980, and while Alternative TV's peers headed down new wave paths or into commercialism, the authors of the quintessential "You Bastard" single (regarded by many, John Peel included, as a classic) and, of course, The Image Has Cracked LP, which remains on a par with the first Sex Pistols or Clash albums for genre-defining punk, who would have expected a follow-up as avant-garde abstraction that challenges P.I.L's Second Edition for absolute left-field swing? With Genesis P-Orridge in the ranks, Vibing Up the Senile Man became closer to free improvisation and avant-garde jazz without a punk anthem in sight, and a dub edge to some of the tracks of the double LP suggest that Alternative TV had similar modernist aspirations to John Lydon's post-Sex Pistols project. Captain Beefheart and Frank Zappa spring to mind as much as Pere Ubu and the Red Krayola, who were similarly exploring the avant-garde liberties of post-punk and disappointing the punks and record industry alike. What Vibing Up the Senile Man represents two decades later is a door opening on multi-faceted post-rock music -- which draws on avant-garde, noise, and jazz and arguably makes more sense in the context of year 2000 as a musical treasure much more than in 1980, when it seemed simply a spit in the eye to the industry that codified punk.

Calling this one of the most distinct and at the same time confusing Swans releases would be putting it mildly. Though there's a clear Joy Division influence on Swans' first EP, the fact that the band would release two separate cover versions, sung by Gira and Jarboe separately, of the English group's justly famous swan song must still have been a surprise upon its appearance. Various editions of the single popped up, ultimately resulting in an overall 12"/CD single release which compiled just about everything. Of the two covers, Jarboe's is the more striking, her deep, mournful vocals beautifully suited to the wracked lyrics, set over a spare arrangement of acoustic guitar and keyboards; Gira's own take isn't bad either, but it's a little more straightforward in comparison (he himself has since dismissed the entire release as one of Swans' worst moments). As for the other tracks, the most noteworthy are "Trust Me," a brief but incredibly ambiguous take on love and truthfulness sung with especial wryness by Gira over a tense acoustic/electric arrangement, and a version of the Children of God track "New Mind," listed as acoustic but with electric guitar in the background and a general band arrangement helping to fill out the calmer but still gripping take on the song.

Released shortly before the Greed album, this three-song EP contains two mixes of the title track, plus "Sealed in Skin," a piano-led piece with brooding Gira vocals which adds some unexpected subtlety to the now well-established sonic recipe of slow, grinding apocalyptic rock. "Time Is Money (Bastard)," however, is the key track in both mixes for very good reason. New drummer Ricardo Gonzalez combines with Gira's vicious drum machine samples to (perhaps unexpectedly) create an underground industrial/dance hit, with one of Gira's most explicit, snarling set of lyrics ever -- one of the calmer lines is "You should be violated." This EP is notable for another key factor -- this is the first release that Jarboe (who would shortly become the other core songwriter and singer of the Swans) appeared on, credited simply for "scream."

More great early Swans! This EP serves as sort of a transition between the bludgeoning no-wave of Cop and the more experimental gothic sounds of Greed and Holy Money. The mix is psychedelic and overpowering: when you listen to I Crawled it's like Michael Gira's standing right there whispering his twisted lyrics into your ears, and the others are huge and atmospheric thanks to shitloads of reverb.

While Cop was like being tied to a chair and tortured in an abandoned warehouse, Young God is like practicing ritual self-mutilation in your basement while overdosing on LSD and roofies. It's so slow, dark and delirious it sort of makes you feel like you're slowly bleeding to death.

The classic tracks are the title track, featuring some seriously disturbed lyrics about Ed Gein and bizarre, otherworldly percussion noise, and Raping a Slave which takes the crushing doom-industrial approach to its logical conclusion using a brutal, equal parts hypnotic and crushing rhythm (DUH! DUH! DUH-DUH-DUH-DUH-DUH-DUH!) and pretty much serves as a blueprint for Godflesh's Streetcleaner.

Fittingly, it's included on the Cop CD, and the fantastic Cop/Young God/Greed/Holy Money double CD. You should buy that, preferrably right now.

Swans' first release was anything but the slow-motion death march which would rapidly become the band's early raison d'être. Gira's lyrics certainly aren't pretty; the urban angst and alienation level ratchets up high with images of dogs' hearts pumping blood on sidewalks and anonymous, violent sex, though all delivered in a slightly aggrieved and quietly mixed rather than soul-destroyed tone. However, the music also often has a quick, sharp energy to it, rather unlike the 2/2 tempos in the offing. An unavoidable influence in the crisp, echoed production and general feel is Joy Division, a debt not repaid fully until Swans' dual covers of "Love Will Tear Us Apart" in 1988. Hints of other post-punk and no wave peers creep in as well, a feeling especially created by Daniel Galli-Duani's saxophone, which generally avoids random skronk for careful shading and atmosphere. Bob Pezzola's guitar work is the standout here, though; his Bernard Sumner-ish art-metal chiming is quite good, but utterly unlike the blasts of sound Norman Westberg would soon be unleashing in his place. On balance, this is a fair release covering a sound that Swans would never again revisit.

Recorded : The Manor Mobile, live at the Hammersmith Odeon London, 9-10 May 1984, and in Oxford, 5 May 1984

Genre : Post-punk, Gothic rock, New Wave

Length : 42:27

Label : Fiction (UK), Elektra (Canada)

Producer : Dave Allen, The Cure

Concert: The Cure Live is the first live album of English rock band The Cure. It was recorded in 1984 at the Hammersmith Odeon in London and in Oxford. Its cassette tape edition featured on the B-side a twin album of anomalies, entitled Curiosity (Killing the Cat): Cure Anomalies 1977–1984.

After the fallout both psychologically and physically of Pornography, it looked unlikely that anyone would hear from the Cure ever again. Surprisingly, from 1982-1983 Robert Smith and (now keyboardist) Lol Tolhurst put out some of the catchiest singles of their career. "Let's Go to Bed," "The Walk," and "The Lovecats" were not only singles that got the Cure radio play and made them a household name, but more importantly marked the next phase in the music of the Cure, which would reach its peak with albums like Head on the Door and Kiss Me, Kiss Me, Kiss Me. Dropping the stripped-down darkness of Faith and Pornography, the songs on Japanese Whispers (the aforementioned singles from that era, including all the B-sides) are light, dancy, and at times jazzy. Adding new keyboard sounds, old-timey percussion, standup bass, and some damn silly lyrics rejuvenated Robert Smith and sent him on a course that would cement his role as one of the most interesting musicians to emerge from the '80s underground. Japanese Whispers is one of those rare releases when a singles collection works just as well as a standard-issue album.

Falling somewhere between official release and compilation, Boys Don't Cry was released in February 1980 in hopes to get the band exposure outside of the U.K.. It captures the first phase of the band well, showcasing the angular new wave that had garnered them acclaim in England. What separates this from the debut full-length (and thus qualifying it as an 'official' release) is that unlike Three Imaginary Boys, the first three singles ("Killing an Arab," "Boys Don't Cry," and "Jumping Someone Else's Train") are included, and tracks like "So What" (the one with lyrics read off a sugar packet) are dropped in favor of the excellent "World War" and "Plastic Passion." A good starting point for getting up to speed on this era of the band, it works best when paired up with Three Imaginary Boys; then you'll get the complete picture.

Easy Cure were a British punk rock and post-punk band from Crawley, Sussex formed during the late '70s by former members of Malice. Easy Cure went on to fame when, after several lineup changes, they became The Cure.

Saturday, September 3, 2011

KAAOS formed in March 1980. In the beginning of 1981 the first real line-up started to play noisy hardcore with UK & US influences. KAAOS´ first 8 song EP came out as a split release with a band called CADGERS (later named RIISTETYT), followed by some chaotic gigs and a couple of songs for various compilations. While guitarist (and later vocalist) Jakke being the only original member, the line-up changed frequently. As the band had very loyal fans all over the world they released their famous "Totaalinen kaaos" EP on Propaganda Records instead of breaking up. The EP became one of the bestselling finnish records ever. The album "Ristiinnaulittu Kaaos" appeared early 1984 on Barabbas Records. During the bands first European tour German Weird System label put out a KAAOS/TERVEET KÄDET split LP called "So Much Fun". In 1985 KAAOS giged all over Scandinavia and the rest of Europe, recorded another EP (which came out in 1993) and did their final show in December ´85.

If you object to me by putting your music on my blog,please inform me to remove it. Blogger's and the likes Please go and buy the original Lp/Cd or whatever format you lot like these day's...any comment and suggestions are all welcome.